


No Glory

by LOLDivo



Category: Il Divo
Genre: Anti-Mary Sue - Freeform, Non-Idealistic, Trope Subversion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-02
Packaged: 2018-02-03 01:50:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1726721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LOLDivo/pseuds/LOLDivo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Believe it or not, the guys of Il Divo are human! This will go against probably every single RPF you've ever read. No long soulful conversations, no heroic men, no love at first sight; just four men trying to be normal despite crazy fans.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Carlos and the Deluded Fan

Zee sat alone at the most expensive restaurant in town for the third time that month. Maybe if she looked desperate and turned her violet-eyed (courtesy non-prescription contacts), gold-highlighted caramel-haired head in the right way, perhaps some incredibly handsome man would come along and sweep her 38-24-36 body off her feet.

She thought about the Il Divo concert that everyone in her social circle had been talking about (and by social circle, she meant the online exclusive forum that she spent most of her workday on). They would be performing tomorrow night, and since they did not have a concert scheduled for today, Zee was sure that Il Divo were already in town.

This would be the perfect place for one or more of the Divos to waltz in and indulge what was sure to be a fine sense of taste, and if they spotted Elizabeth Jane Smith (but you can call her Zee for short) sitting by herself at a large circular corner booth that could easily fit four handsome men, then it would be absolute folly for them to sit anywhere else, even if there were a couple of other tables open on the other side of the restaurant.

At that moment, an exotic-looking man entered the restaurant with two other men at his side. It had to be Carlos. It just HAD to be! And he WOULD ditch his bodyguards, tell them to enjoy themselves while he worked his magic on that poor lonely woman. With her white upper-class privilege so blatantly visible, there was no way he could resist her and not meet her eyes and not fall in love with her instantly and not…

"I'm sorry, ma'am, this particular table has been reserved," cut in one of the waitresses. "If you would care to sit at the bar instead--"

"No! If it's reserved, then that must mean Carlos is going to sit here!" In reality, Carlos was headed in the exact opposite direction towards the kitchen, where the Argentinean head chef greeted him with a handshake and initiated an enthusiastic conversation in Spanish.  Well, then, she was just going to have to be bold and strut up to him in her $400 shoes and assertively persuade him to join her. She got up and walked up only have her path blocked by one of the men on security duty.

"Please state your name and business," demanded the bodyguard.

Zee let out a short laugh that came out more like a cough. "Surely you must know me. I'm the one who gifted Il Divo the Swarovski crystal fountain pens, and I am sure they've shown them to you on countless occasions!"

The other bodyguard whispered to his partner, to which he replied with a shrug and a quiet "I have no idea what she's talking about."

"What seems to be the problem, gentlemen?" asked Carlos with his signature smile adorning his face. Said smile fell in record time when he saw the woman they had been interrogating. "Oh. Well, we already, um...ate lunch elsewhere, yeah. So now that I have visited my friend Chef Santiago, we are done here." He quickly turned back around to Chef Santiago and rapidly whispered, " _Esta puta loca trató de besarme con lápiz labial morado antes de un concierto y agarrar mi culo después_ ." The chef nodded sympathetically.

Zee was sure Carlos was telling the chef about her; she had listened to Il Divo's songs enough times to know that _besarme_ meant "to kiss me" and _después_ meant "after". Could he be discussing how they were going to kiss and then do the most beautiful lovemaking afterwards? With a sly grin that clashed with her widened eyes, she grabbed his arm. "So where are we going now, Carlito?"

Carlos shook her off and gave her an uncharacteristically cold glare. "We," he indicated himself and his bodyguards, "are getting out of here. You," he brushed a dismissive hand in her direction, "are gonna leave me the fuck alone."

Zee's face contorted in an absurd display of shock. "How could you? Carlos, I love you; you're the only man I've ever loved. We were destined to always be together! Let me be the other half of your--"

"If you say 'orange' I swear to god..." cut off Carlos. "You've been harassing us, and it has to stop. Let's go, gentlemen."

Several waiters must have overheard the exchange, because when Carlos and his bodyguards turned to leave, at least five of them surrounded Zee when she tried to rush after them. "I'm afraid we must ask you to leave," insisted one who appeared to be the manager. Two of the waiters gently guided Zee by the shoulders into the kitchen and led her out the employee exit.

Zee quietly sulked as she trudged towards her custom Bentley out front. How dare they interfere with her and her star-crossed lover! But it was with a sinking feeling that she remembered that he didn't even call her by name. No "Hello Zee," not even a "Hello darling". If he couldn't at least do that…did he love her the way she relentlessly loved him? A seed of doubt had planted itself in her mind. By the time she got home that evening, it had rooted itself deep enough for her to sell her VIP ticket to another woman on the forum.


	2. Urs and the Double-Theft

On the other side of town, Urs was walking out of the local guitar shop with his newest purchase in hand (since they could not ship outside the USA, he had to make sure it got to London on his own terms). He had his dark sunglasses on to deflect unwanted attention.  Just as he stepped onto the sidewalk with his guitar case, a sleazy-looking man dashed towards him. Urs would have made nothing of it had he not spotted him carrying a bright pink gym bag. The man bumped a bit into Urs's shoulder and continued running.

Just then, a tall, buff African-American woman stampeded along the sidewalk. "Move it, asshole!" she shouted, shoving Urs out of the way. She ran after the assailant in well-worn tennis shoes, black sweatpants, and a faded Green Lantern t-shirt. Urs was knocked to the ground, and as he caught himself with both hands, he made two startling realizations.

His guitar case was gone. And his sunglasses were broken.

As quickly as he could, Urs peeled himself off the cement, only to find himself surrounded by three rabid fans.

"Oh my GOSH it's Erzzz Byooler!"

"We're such HUGE fans of Il Divo!"

"We've gone to twelve of your concerts this year!"

"Don't you recognize us?"

"Erzzz, can we get your autograph?"

 _Fuck. My. Life._ thought Urs Bühler. He looked past the permed heads of the swooning middle-aged women to see the sleazy man turn into an alleyway with the Amazon woman right on his tail. Urs spotted his vintage, extremely rare, $9500 guitar in its black case disappearing around the corner with the robber. But Urs was always known for being courteous to his fans. He would never do anything crass or inconsiderate to them. There was no way he could risk breaking his image of being a perfect gentleman.

"MOVE IT!" he shouted. Oh well, there was a first time for everything…even if he couldn't bring himself to say "assholes".

He broke past the female barricade and raced down the street towards the alley. By the time he turned the corner, he saw a pair of legs sticking out of a pile of garbage bags and the Valkyrie of a woman standing triumphantly over the scene with her gym bag on her right shoulder and Urs's guitar in her left hand. Urs approached the woman, who began talking before she even turned to him.

"Sorry for shoving you earlier. I believe this is yo--oh my fucking god." The woman's eyes went wide with sudden recognition. "…no fucking way."

"You know who I am, then?" asked Urs, bracing himself for the word vomit that was bound to spew out of this woman's mouth.

Rather than begin a jabbering fangirl spree, the woman simply nodded and handed the guitar case back. She replied, "Of course. God, I'm so fucking sorry, Mr. Bühler." She even had the courtesy to pronounce his last name correctly.

"Please, don't be sorry," Urs assured her, "You did what you had to do to get your belongings back, and mine as well. I really feel as though I should thank you for helping me…"

At that moment, the three middle-aged fans who had ganged up on Urs earlier spotted their victim and blocked one end of the alley. They pressed forward towards him as quickly as their overpriced stiletto shoes would let them.

"Oh my GOSH, what is he doing with that ugly lady?"

"How come she gets to talk to him and not us?"

"Erzzz, we love you!"

Urs cursed under his breath. He was just about to give in and oblige the rabid fans when the towering woman stopped him from going any further. She dug into her bag and produced a unisex pair of sunglasses.

"You run, I'll hold them off," she whispered.

"Are you sure?" Urs asked in a low voice as he put on the sunglasses. "Is there anything I can do to thank you?"

"I helped you, that's more than enough for me. Now go!"

"I don't even know your na--"

"Just fucking go!"

"Thank you," Urs whispered back before hightailing it out of the alley.

As he ran off, he could hear the tall woman yelling behind him, "Why can't you harpies just leave that poor bastard alone? He's got his own life to live, you know!" Urs grinned as he turned the corner onto the main street.


	3. David and Seb's Input

Somewhere in the middle of these two incidents, David and Seb sat incognito at a Starbucks, drinking their lattes contentedly and chatting away. Nobody bothered them, and they bothered nobody in return.

When David and Seb returned to the hotel, they found Carlos and Urs sitting in a corner of the lobby by themselves. Urs casually strummed his new guitar on one end of the sofa while Carlos appeared to be curled up on the other end, muttering bitterly. David and Seb sat in two chairs across from them and listened to their conversation.

"I never thought I would be so…what's the word…revulsed ("It's 'repulsed'," corrected Urs) by a woman in my life. You remember what she tried to do to me, right, with the weird lipstick and the ass touching?" The context was not needed, for Seb cringed in agreement as the memory of those hideous purple lips resurfaced.

"That's not so bad," scoffed Urs, "I had to deal with THREE of her kind today."

David let out a low whistle. "And you're still alive?"

Urs stopped playing and shrugged. "Well, I could have been killed by the bastard who stole my guitar if he had a gun, or when I got knocked down by that other lady."

"But you got it back," pointed out Seb, "so you must have stopped him and saved the day, right?"

"About that…" Urs began nervously. He carefully laid his guitar back in its case and closed it up as he spoke. "The thief had taken this one lady's gym bag as well, and she was already chasing him. She knocked me down and then I got bombarded by three crazy fans. By the time I caught up, she had beaten the shit out of the guy, and she helped me get away when those same fans found me again."

Carlos's spirits lifted a bit. "Ooh, a nice strong woman! Did you offer her anything in return?" he asked with a cheeky grin.

Urs chuckled a bit and replied, "I tried but she actually refused. Thankfully she didn't ask for a VIP pass or anything like so many other fans would."

"I don't understand why people think we can just give tickets out like candy to anyone we meet," David stated matter-of-factly. "You gotta at least give us a little notice and, I dunno, an actual reason. No, sorry, we can't give you a free seat at a sold-out show just because you know who we are."

"I know that's right," agreed Carlos, "and I know better than do any favors for a lady as crazy as…what was her name again?"

The other three Divos knew who he was talking about, of course, but none of them could remember her name. Seb took a guess, "Wasn't it some ridiculous nickname like Tee or Nee or something, and it had nothing to do with her real name?"

"You know what, I don't ever want to remember," admitted Carlos, who finally got up from the couch. The Divos only had a couple hours of free time left to recover from their respective adventures before taking on the next structured event in store. 


End file.
